


Shopping's Only Fun in a Montage

by fangirlSevera



Series: The Real Housewife of Avengers Tower [2]
Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Action, Humor, M/M, SHIELD Husbands, Shopping Spree, monster attack, not your gay friend, trophy wives
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-12
Updated: 2012-12-12
Packaged: 2017-11-20 22:50:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/590527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fangirlSevera/pseuds/fangirlSevera
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Phil's out of town, cleaning-up after the latest Avengers mission. Clint gets tricked into coffee and shopping with the three "trophy wives" he met at a Stark Industries gala. </p><p>Thankfully, something attacks the city.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shopping's Only Fun in a Montage

**Author's Note:**

> Several comments on [You'd Look Great on My Mantelpiece](http://archiveofourown.org/works/489229) said they'd love to see Clint taken on a shopping trip and/or the women finding out Clint's not just a secretary who married well. And I decided, yeah, good ideas!
> 
> I apologize in advance for any inaccurate/ridiculous use of New York geography and landmarks. I only had Google maps for reference.
> 
> WARNINGS: This story contains canon levels of sci-fi gore/violence, and the Hulk eating something he shouldn't.

As Avengers missions went, it wasn't a particularly difficult one, unless you counted all the hick and corn jokes Tony just _had_ to make what with them being in Clint's home state. What looked like a simple, ordinary farm with a corn silo was in fact an AIM base with a _missile_ silo. 

The Avengers walked away from shutting the base down with only a few bruises, scrapes and a couple laser burns (that Cap was able to shake-off easily). But still, Clint was sore and achy and really really wishing his husband was around for some comforting. Instead, Phil was still back in Iowa, head of clean-up both the physical and publicity sides. His job hadn't been made any easier when, after the AIM base had been secured, the Hulk, pleased with so much running space had gone tromping through the corn fields. Tony had gone airborne to take photos of the interesting shapes the Hulk was making in the broken cornstalks.

"These are better than crop circles!" Tony had declared. Two minutes later, the "Hulk Circles" photos appeared on the totally unofficial, completely unsanctioned Avengers website which no Avenger was affiliated with much less running...

Clint's teammates handled post-mission decompression in their own way. Bruce, exhausted from all the fresh air and exercise, retired directly to his room for a nap. Tony was kicking back celebratory drinks with Thor. Nat and Steve were in the gym, burning off some extra adrenaline by kicking the crap out of each other on the sparring mat.

Clint was invited and tempted to join Tony and Thor, but didn't want to get dragged into the inevitable drinking contest. Phil could have been home in the next hour or the next day, and Clint didn't want to be passed-out or hungover when that happened.

Clint sat on the sofa, flipping through the 2000 channels Avengers Tower received, stopping nowhere. Behind him, Thor was trying to explain an Asgardian joke. Clint gave up on the TV and had just decided that one midday drink wouldn't hurt when his phone buzzed. He fumbled it out his pocket in his eagerness to read a message from Phil.

To his utter disappointment, it wasn't Phil. He blinked at the unexpected and confusing words.  


> _Let's meet for coffee! <3  
>  -Aviva A_

Pepper's party was months ago. It took Clint a couple moments to remember why the odd name was so familiar. He had liked the little blond woman and appreciated her attempt at taking him under her wing in the ways of trophy wifedom, as unnecessary as it was. He did not remember ever giving her his phone number, though.

Well, it wasn't exactly like he was terribly busy at the moment, and he didn't mind checking-in with her for a short time. He texted back the name of a cafe by the Tower that Steve was always fond of and received the reply:  


> _See you in 15! XOXO_

"Going for a walk," Clint said.

He went unheard as Tony was saying, "Allspeak can translate the words, but not the humor. And if you have to explain the joke, it's automatically not funny."

Clint gave the frowning Thor a sympathetic pat on the arm on his way out. "You are always explaining your jokes," Thor said.

"That's because you and Rogers are always looking like befuddled retrievers."

Clint was immensely glad when the elevator doors closed on the conversation. 

The sky was blue and clear, but the breeze was cold enough that Clint hunched into his leather jacket. On the way to the cafe, he checked his phone for messages from Phil probably more times than was strictly healthy. He put it away again as he opened the cafe door.

"Clint!" Aviva was right there, grabbing his shoulders and leaning in to give him a pair of air kisses. "Thank God you're here, they're driving me nuts," she hissed between her teeth.

"They?" Clint asked, looking up and around. At a table in a corner sat the two other women Clint had been introduced to at Pepper's party. Jemma Jane was in pink again. She grinned, waving her fingers at him. She was practically bouncing in her seat. Clint decided to slip the waitress something extra to make sure anything she was given was decaf. Marley was eyeing the décor with a disdain she didn't even try to hide when the waitress approached.

"When you said 'let's,' I had assumed the 'us' meant just you and me."

Aviva slipped her arm through his and lead him to their table. "It's not my fault what you assume." Her smile was so similar to Natasha's devious smirk, Clint was starting to think they had to be related.

Marley, clearly used to a classier sort of coffee place turned her baleful eye to Clint. She did not look as pleased to see him as the others. It was probably his clothes by the way she raked over his form. Her frown deepened at his worn jeans, and her eyes actually twitched as she read his t-shirt. It was a cheap touristy thing he picked-up in Puente Antigua that read "Journey Into Mystery!" in a bright, cheery font.

"Ladies," Clint greeted them with a nod. He sat and the waitress turned to him after taking Marley's detailed and specific cappuccino order. Beth, the waitress' name tag said, and he couldn't help but notice the array of Captain America pins on her apron. She looked like she was going to cry in relief when Clint simply ordered the house blend, black.

"Anything to eat?" Beth asked the table.

"What do you have without carbs?" Marley asked.

"We have fruit."

"Is it organic?"

"It's not plastic, if that's what you mean," Clint shot at her. That made Beth smirk. He winked at her and she blushed. "I'll have one of those big-ass blueberry muffins, that'd be awesome."

She was full-on smiling now as she jotted it down. 

"That sounds good," Aviva said. "I'll have one, too."

"Do you think you should?" Marley asked, waving the waitress away, not wanting anything to eat. Jemma Jane declined food, as well. "You do want to actually fit in the clothes you try on today."

"I guess it's a good thing I haven't deluded myself into think I'm a size smaller than I actually am."

Clint thought the Avengers had a strange, unconventional friendship. Even Tony and Steve's clashes were still underlain with genuine respect. But these women's insistence of spending time with each other, when they didn't seem to like each other, was just baffling.

The waitress came back with their drinks and muffins. Marley grabbed her wrist before she could escape again. "Excuse me, but I said _light_ foam and a _sprinkle_ of cinnamon. This is half-foam and a spoonful of cinnamon! I can't drink this!"

Beth sighed and took the cup away, hopefully to spit in it and give it right back. Jemma Jane was happy with her latte, humming in satisfaction. She did give Aviva's muffin a longing look, though. Aviva tore off a chunk and handed it over.

Beth returned with Marley's corrected drink, setting the cup down with enough force to send some brown liquid trickling over the side. 

"Can you believe that woman's attitude? She better not be expecting any tip." Marley took a sip and shrugged. "Well, it's a good thing you're not suggesting the other places we're going today." 

"Other places?"

"We're going to have so much fun!" Jemma Jane declared.

"Fun?" Clint looked at Aviva.

She set her coffee down and met his eyes with that little smirk. "Didn't I mentioned that you're going shopping with us in my text?"

"No."

"But you did promise to come shopping with us Clint," Marley said.

"I did?" He was pretty sure he hadn't.

"Yes, at the Stark gala."

"But I-" All Clint recalled was Marley claiming being in the need for a new "gay friend." He didn't remember at all volunteering for the role.

Aviva grabbed his hand under the table. "Please come with us." Her grip and eyes were edged with a note of pleading.

No one tell Natasha that Clint Barton was a sucker for a damsel in distress. The bruises would never fade.

Speaking of distressed damsels, Beth came back one last time with their checks. When Clint saw his order for "Big Ass Bbrry Muffin" written in her loopy handwriting, he decided he would have to return some day with an autographed photo of Steve or something.

And now Clint found himself being dragged around the garment district, carrying bags and being arranged outside fitting rooms. The shop workers in every store looked at him as if he was pre-montage Julia Roberts in _Pretty Woman_. Apparently, he was expected to have some kind of actual opinion on the dresses and jewelry the women tried on or held up to their ears. The best he could do was objective observations such as "That's sparkly," and "That shows a lot of cleavage."

It made Aviva laugh, and even Jemma Jane would giggle until Marley shot her a dissuading looking. Marley's frustrated sighs grew louder each time he gave her another unsatisfactory remark on her wardrobe choices.

He did get a moment's peace when all three women were tucked behind changing curtains. At those times he took the opportunity to check for messages. With every lack of communique from Phil, Clint's disinterest in his current activity increased until he couldn't even bother with words and just made noncommittal grunts and shrugs.

Marley threw her arms up, silken sleeves pooling around her shoulders and shouted, "You're defective!" And stormed back into the changing room.

Aviva smiled at the nervous salesgirl and handed her an armful of dresses to ring-up. She sat next to Clint and patted his hand. Clint turned a tired look at her. "What the hell is this?"

"Girls' day out?" Aviva's smile dropped as Clint's expression didn't change. "Okay. This could be a lesson for Marley that not all gay men are as seen on BRAVO."

"You're using me as a lesson?"

"And a buffer. These girls drive me insane."

"Then why?" Clint finally asked. "Why hang out with them?"

Aviva shrugged. "Part of the lifestyle, isn't it? And I think I get some masochistic pleasure out of butting heads with Marley. Got to take her down a notch if no one else will. Something wrong?" She suddenly asked.

Clint realized he was checking his phone again. It had become such a habit in the last few hours, it had become an unconscious act. He must have been frowning at the lack of messages again. "Nothing wrong," he said, tucking his phone away. "Phil's out of town. Been hoping to hear from him."

"Away on business?" She gave him a pitying look and her tone dripped with double meaning.

"It's not like that."

Her small smile and wide eyes said, "Poor, sweet, naïve boy."

But what could he say to reassure her? It's not how it looks? But how did it look? No different from her own experience, or her friends'. Not when Phil was introduced at party's as Pepper's "government friend" in his thousand-dollar suits. Then there's Clint: the younger man on his arm, around for his looks, not his conversation.

Being a secret agent-cum-superhero kinda sucked sometimes.

"Call me old fashioned, but I wouldn't be married to him if I didn't trust him." Clint didn't care what these women or anyone thought of him (seeming a dumb blond had worked to his advantage before), but he wasn't going to sit by and have Phil's name besmirched by assumed philandering. And maybe he had spent too much time around these women because he couldn't keep the accusatory (Clint refused to admit to being catty) edge out of his statement.

Aviva shrugged it off, though. "It doesn't matter to me. I'm just giving it a few more months for my husband to convince himself once again that his lack of children isn't his fault, but his women's. I'm not the first, won't be the last."

"I'm sorry," Clint said, dumbly.

She actually laughed. "Don't be! I got a decent enough deal in the pre-nup and I have my cosmetology career to fall back on. Besides, I'm still young. I still have time to meet a nice male secretary, maybe, and live in middle class bliss for the rest of my life. In the meantime, I'm going to enjoy the shopping sprees and pissing off Marley while I can."

Clint had to admire her honesty and pragmatism, if nothing else. He couldn't imagine plotting his life out like that, knowing and accepting that his marriage was inevitably going to fail. But better than some, he supposed, who held on to something steeped in lies and shallowness too long and lived unhappily ever after. 

"Call me a fool or a sap, but Phil and I are the real deal."

"For your sake, sweetie, I hope so."

"Viva, you're hogging Clint again!" Marley shoved her dress choices at the salesgirl.

"Are we done yet?" Clint asked, slumping further in his uncomfortable chair.

Jemma Jane came from her dressing room, arms full of pink silk. "Done? Don't be silly! We haven't even _looked_ at shoes yet!"

Clint was starting to feel sick. "Shoes?" His phone buzzed, and Clint's heart leaped. He fumbled it a bit in his eagerness. The message still wasn't from Phil, but the _ASSEMBLE_ from Steve's number was just as welcomed. He shot from his chair and ran for the door, calling back, "Sorry! Gotta go!"

He heard Aviva's concerned "Clint?" Marley's "Rude!" and Jemma Jane's cheery "Bye!"

Once outside, Clint dialed Steve back. "What've we got, Cap?"

"Send your coordinates to Iron Man. He's got your gear and he'll fill you in."

Clint shot off his location to Stark and not half a minute later, Iron Man joined him in a deserted alley. He tossed Clint his gear and said, "Sharktopus."

"Excuse me?" Clint took off his civvies and stashed them behind a stack of boxes. He hoped they would be there when he came back later. If not, at least some lucky hobo would've gotten some nice new threads.

"Should I be impressed or concerned about how comfortable you are stripping down in an alley?"

"Secret agent," Clint reminded him, zipping up his vest. He stuck his comm in his ear then strapped on his bow and quiver. "So, what's this about Sharktopusses?"

"I think the plural would be Sharktopi," Bruce corrected over the comm.

"Hey," Stark said, "If you're able to be a Grammar Nazi, that means someone is not actually being useful down at the docks, I don't know, _smashing_ these Sharktopussies?"

Iron Man held his arms out, beckoning. Clint sighed, but put an arm around his shoulders and let Tony blast off.

"Sharktopussies?" Natasha asked. "Is that really the plural you want to stick with?"

"Cut the chatter, children," said a voice that was still decidedly not Phil.

"It's not just the same when you say it, Sitwell." Iron Man's helmet moved in a small head shake. 

There was definitely movement down at the riverbank. Ungainly shapes were climbing out of the Hudson onto the Greenway and into the city. "Just drop me off over Javits, and go do what you need to do."

"You sure?" It was Rogers.

"Unless you want me somewhere else, Cap."

"Position confirmed, Hawkeye."

Whether he would have gotten the okay or not was moot since Tony was already flying low and releasing Clint on the convention center's roof. Iron Man flew off and Clint sprung out of his roll and ran for the roof's edge.

Damn, Tony was right. They were fucking Sharktopusses, or whatever the plural was. The improbability of shark heads wandering around on tentacles were crawling through the streets. The Hulk was taking care of half-a-dozen that made it into the train yard. The blue, red, and black of Captain America and Black Widow were on the ground, trying to beat back the monstrosities as they emerged from the water. SHIELD agents were coordinating civilian evac. Above it all, Iron Man swooped between buildings, blasting the creatures into so much calamari and sushi. Clint, from his centralized position, had plenty of his own to deal with, shooting arrows straight into their cold, dead eyes. They went down with satisfyingly Jaws-like roars.

"Where's Thor?" Clint asked, realizing there was someone missing. "Shouldn't he be flying around, frying these assholes?"

"Lincoln tunnel," Sitwell told him. "Some of these... Creatures have been trying to break through. He's literally keeping the walls up."

"Where the hell are they all coming from?" Cap asked, his shield slicing clean through one monster's tentacles leaving just a gawping head.

"Underwater lab? I'm thinking underwater lab," Stark said. "We have got to not let our mad scientists watch bad made-for-cable sci-fi movies."

"Stark..." Nat said.

"Well, other than me and Bruce. All right, I'm going for a swim." Iron Man arced through the air and plunged into the river.

The onslaught was weakening. Either they were running out of Sharktopi, or with Iron Man in the water, their attention was directed elsewhere. 

"A creature's made it out of the train yard, heading North East!" Sitwell called.

Clint turned to the train yard. "What? I thought Hulk had..." No, it looked like the big guy had lost interest in fighting and was sitting amongst his carnage trying to _eat_ his kill. Bruce was going to have stomach problems later...

"I've got eyes on the stray. Sitwell, get me wheels on 11th. I'm coming down."

Clint sprinted across the roof. He shot a grappling arrow at the roof's edge and released the chord early, tying the end around his middle before jumping off. For a few frantic steps, he actually managed a vertical run down the building's glass walls, pushing off as the sidewalk neared. He released the line and tumbled on to the street.

The standard black SHIELD car managed to come to a screeching halt a foot in front of him. Clint got to his feet and pulled the junior agent out from the behind the wheel. With a squeal of tires, he sped away to head off the stray Sharktopus. Clint dodged rubble caused from flailing tentacles as well as the people running out of the path of the snapping shark jaws. 

The creature in sight, Clint gunned the engine and rammed it, sending car and monster through a storefront. The car and fallen brick hadn't injured it too severely, nor was it going to keep the creature pinned long. Clint leaped from the car and shot an arrow down its throat. He flicked his fingers over the controls on his bow and the arrowhead detonated, sending blood, teeth, and tentacles flying.

"And I thought they smelled bad on the outside," Clint muttered to himself, wiping a hand through the gore on his face.

"Clint?"

He stiffened and turned slowly to face the shop's other occupants. Four women, including an employee, rose slowly from behind the cover of the sales counter. _Of all the shoe shops in all the city, I had to crash into theirs..._

Aviva came forward, shakily stepping around a still twitching tentacle. Marley stared around herself in disbelief. Jemma Jane had her arms around the crying clerk. They had managed to avoid most of the carnage, only flecks of remains and blood in their hair. Aviva had a scratch on her cheek from broken glass. Eyes wide in shock and fear, she stopped in front of Clint, taking in his uniform, the bow in his hand, and settling on the SHIELD logo on his shoulder. "C-Clint... Are you a superhero?"

"Barton!" Sitwell shouted in his ear. "What's your situation?"

Clint smiled at Aviva. "Can you find me a towel?"

She nodded wordlessly and collected the clerk from Jemma Jane to help her find cleaning supplies.

Clint turned away from them and touched his ear. "Target's neutralized, sir. Got some shaken civilians here."

"Understood. Sending agents to begin clean-up."

"How're the others?

"No more threats on land. Iron Man has in fact found some kind of mutant aquarium filled with and I quote, 'freaky-ass Cthulu shit.'"

"Any idea who's behind these things?"

"Investigation is ongoing. Debrief at the Tower after Banner stops puking his guts out."

Clint winced, his own stomach churning in sympathy for a moment. "Understood. Hawkeye out."

Aviva had come back. He grabbed the couple of towels she was holding with a muttered thanks. He concentrated on wiping the blood and slime off himself, not ready to meet her eyes. He didn't like the way Aviva was staring at him now. The public's awe always made him uncomfortable, but with Aviva it was worse. He much preferred her conspiratorial smirks from earlier that day.

"You're an Avenger!" Jemma Jane squealed, finding her voice.

"Yeah." Clint dropped the soiled towel and rubbed at his hair with a clean one.

"Of course you are!" Aviva's laugh was edging into hysterical. And hey, poor lady just had a girl's day out interrupted by an exploding Sharktopus, she was more than allowed some hysterics. She took a deep breath and wiped her eyes. "Does your husband know what you do?"

"Unfortunately, yes. And in excruciating detail."

Clint turned, large grin splitting his face. "Like you're not the one who bitched at me for years for giving you vague sitreps." Clint hadn't even noticed the SHIELD vehicles arriving on the scene. Overwhelmed by relief and exhaustion, Clint just wanted to fall into Phil's arms.

But Phil kept him at arm's length, only an index finger pressed to Clint's chest. "No. You're covered in fish guts."

"Come on, what's a little fish guts between husbands?"

"Armani," Phil deadpanned. "Mrs. Kennedy, please refrain from using your phone to take pictures or videos, or I will confiscate it."

"But I have to tell my book club that I'm friends with an Avenger!"

"No, you don't." He took the phone from Marley's hands. "Not now, not ever."

"I don't know who you think you are, Mr. Coulson, but you have no right-"

"It's Agent Coulson, actually, and I have every right."

After all this time, Phil flashing his badge and exuding his authority should not have still been so sexy. But damn, was it still capable of turning Clint on at inappropriate moments.

"So, 'away on business' actually meant..." Aviva bit her lip, chagrined.

"Post-Avengers clean-up, yeah."

"Oh, Clint, I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have said those things."

"Hey, no." He gave her a quick squeeze around her shoulders. "You saw what we let you see."

She sniffed and nodded. Medics had arrived and were taking the civilians aside. "Thank you," Aviva said quietly, before letting herself be led away, "for all the times you saved us."

"Just doing my job, ma'am." Damn Steve for rubbing off on him.

Phil was back outside leaning against his car, removing the hard drive from Marley's phone.

"When did you get back anyway?" Clint asked, joining him.

"Just as the alarm was raised for this little fiasco."

"You could have let me know you were on your way."

"Wanted to surprise you."

"You know this is why we still haven't had our honeymoon yet."

Phil sighed in agreement. He reached out to take Clint's hand, but thought better of it giving Clint another sniff. "You're sitting in the back."

Clint rolled his eyes. So much for the romantic reunion. After the debrief and a thorough shower, Clint was going to demand _so much_ sex and cuddles. "I left some clothes in an alley nearby, I could-"

"No, I already passed a rather scraggly gentleman who I doubt has ever heard of Puente Antigua, much less took that journey into mystery."

"Damn, I really loved that shirt. Vaya con dios, my friend.” 

Phil frowned at him. "It's just a t-shirt."

"And that's _just_ a suit." 

Phil protested loudly as he found himself unceremoniously crushed against Clint's sticky, smelly armor and skin. He could squirm all he wanted, he was just ruining his own clothes more by doing so. Phil relented, muscles going slack as he returned the embrace. "I missed you, too," he said into Clint's ear and gave him a quick kiss. "And now I guess there's no point in forcing you into the back now."

Clint laughed, victorious, and got in the car as Phil went around to the driver's side.

"Hey," Clint asked as they started back to the Tower. "Do you know if Pepper needs some kind of personal hairstylist?"

Phil's brow creased at the non-sequitor. "I could ask. Why?"

"I just have a recommendation for her if she does."

"What _have_ you been doing between missions?"

Clint shook his head. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you."

**Author's Note:**

> The word Sharktopus is probably copyright of Star Entertainment.
> 
> Beta: [cruelest_month](http://archiveofourown.org/users/cruelest_month/pseuds/cruelest_month)


End file.
